Surrender in Silk by Susan Mallery Page B

You need watching, and I’m the only one here. It doesn’t have to beawful, you know. We could try to be friends.” When he didn’t answer, she shrugged. “Suit yourself. I’m going to make you some lunch. Don’t go anywhere.”
    Unintelligible curses followed her out of the room. Oddly his temper lightened her spirits. If he had the energy to resent her, he had the energy to heal.
    Once in the kitchen, she opened a can of soup and poured it into a pot. After putting the butane flame on low, she grabbed a crescent wrench from the toolbox by the back door. Then she pulled a large green trash bag out of the box in the pantry and headed outside.
    Ten minutes later, she wrapped the Bronco battery in plastic and set it into a shallow hole in the ground. She covered it up, then smoothed leaves in place. When she stepped back to survey her handiwork, she was pleased. No one would know that she’d buried something here. She glanced at the vehicle as she walked back to the house. Zach might want to leave, but he wasn’t going anywhere without her knowing about it first.
    On her way to the kitchen, she poked her head into his bedroom. He’d collapsed on the bed and was sound asleep. Even resting, the lines of pain still bracketed his mouth. He shouldn’t have been traveling, but he was a stubborn man. Fortunately for both of them, she was just as stubborn. She paused long enough to pull the blankets over him and smooth the hair off his forehead. Then she went into the kitchen and turned off the soup.
     

    Zach opened his eyes and tried to peer into the darkness. He couldn’t figure out where he was. For one horrifying heartbeat, he thought he might be back in his cell and the events of the past couple of weeks had just been a soul-destroying dream.
    He sucked in a breath, held it, then relaxed. He inhaled again, smelling the mustiness of the room and the biting scentof trees beyond the walls. He knew this place. The cabin. Another breath brought an elusive scent…something he couldn’t quite place, something—
    Jamie.
    Memories crashed in on him like a collapsing building. He ducked to avoid them, but there was no escape. He remembered it all. The rescue, his time in the hospital, Jamie coming to visit him and him throwing her out. The argument he’d had with the doctor when he’d wanted to check out early. The difficulty traveling to the cabin. His relief at finding Jamie waiting for him. His anger at finding her waiting for him.
    “You are one confused son of a bitch,” he muttered to himself, and slowly sat up. He immediately felt better. He was weak, but healing. Pain throbbed from every inch of his body.
    He had pills in his bags. Where the hell were his bags?
    He reached for the lamp on the nightstand. He might like isolation, but he didn’t want to be without electricity. The lamp clicked on, filling the room with soft light.
    The first thing he noticed was the blanket draped neatly over him. He didn’t remember falling asleep and he was reasonably sure he hadn’t taken the time to cover himself. Which meant Jamie had done it. What had she thought while she watched him sleep? She probably hated him, which wasn’t a bad thing. She should hate him. Lord knew, he hated himself.
    He allowed himself to experience very few emotions these days, but self-loathing was one of them. He’d lost any of the positive ones years ago.
    He threw back the blankets and got to his feet. His cane rested against the nightstand, but he ignored it. He wanted to make it on his own.
    By using the wall for support and balance, he slowly walked into the kitchen. A pot sat on the stove. When he lifted the lid, he could smell the soup. Some freshly baked rolls saton the counter next to his neatly lined-up pills and a glass of water. His zipped duffel bags were on the kitchen table.
    Jamie had obviously gone through his stuff. The idea should have annoyed him, but he didn’t mind. Which meant he was in more trouble than he’d first